Retrograde
by Dogstar-Black
Summary: A series of one-shots that take place in my 'Protective Reasoning' universe. Will mostly be focused on Clint and Natasha's various exploits through SHIELD before The Avengers. They won't be in any particular order, and won't be updated regularly. Just when the inspiration strikes.
1. Mess Hall

**Yes, I am aware that it is past February 10th, and that Glass is still MIA. That's due to an idiotic mistake on my part. I got two chapters of the story done before realizing that I had completely forgotten about my idea to start it differently than I'd originally planned. So. I'm working on getting the _actual_ first chapter finished, and as soon as it is, I'll be putting it up for all of you. **

**But, seeing as I have actually gotten some of the angry messages I told you it was alright to send after the 10th, I felt terrible and decided to give you this. So, welcome to Retrograde, a collection of pre-Avengers one-shots that will mostly deal with Clint and Natasha's exploits through SHIELD. This one's a bit on the short side, but I thought at least it was something vaguely funny that would make you all hate me a little less hopefully.**

**Now that this author's note has gotten far, far too long, I'll leave you to it, with the assurances that Glass will be up within at most a week. Not that any of you will believe me anymore.**

_**As Always, I Own Nothing.**_

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Clint tilted his head slightly to the side and gave a smirk as he walked into the SHIELD mess hall, intent on finding his partner. Coulson had them scheduled for a last-minute briefing before their mission in Tokyo, that Natasha had no way of knowing about, seeing as she hadn't joined them for their jog that morning. This was their last real mission before he got shipped off to the base in some yet-to-be-disclosed location to babysit a glowing cube and its related scientists. But no one was supposed to know about that.

The reason for his smirk lie in the sight that met him in the otherwise empty mess line, his eyes moving to Natasha of their own accord as they always did. Another man, tall, broad shouldered, and if Clint had to go by body language alone, arrogant, had stepped in front of Natasha in line, stopping her progress and very nearly encroaching on the Widow's personal space. Clearly, the poor guy had no idea who in the hell he was trying to hit on.

"Breakfast and a show." one of the agents seated at a table Clint was passing muttered to his buddies, eyes on the same encounter. Really, it was all anyone in the mess hall was watching.

"Think so?" Clint asked in the same tone, pausing beside the agent that had spoken, a man he recognized from one of the strike teams.

The dark haired man's eyes shot to him before giving a coughing chuckle.

"Breakfast and a damn five act play with you involved Barton." he corrected, and Clint shot him a wry smirk before continuing towards Natasha, who he could see was getting more and more aggravated by the second.

It was his civic duty to intervene before the poor guy lost something important. Of course, he knew why the agent was even more amused with his presence. The entirety of SHIELD was under the impression that he and Natasha were romantically involved. They were just too terrified to ever even broach the subject in the presence of either master assassin. They weren't – romantically involved, that is – but they both agreed it was hilariously funny sometimes to keep the other agents guessing. In fact, it was only Coulson that actually understood the way their partnership worked, and they didn't mind keeping it that way.

He stepped up to Natasha's side easily, effectively blocking the other agent's hand as it tried to unobtrusively slide around to Natasha's backside. That wouldn't have ended well at all.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked lightly, looking down to meet Natasha's gaze, watching as the woman raised a clearly questioning eyebrow, that he read as asking permission to castrate the poor guy still in front of her that now looked rather peeved at the interruption. He gave her a smirk, but the smallest of headshakes, making the corner of her mouth lift up into a scowl for half a second before it was gone.

"Hey, buddy, do you mind?" the agent demanded, taking another step closer, this time to Clint who simply looked up to meet the man's gaze, completely not intimidated despite the agent's clear intentions.

"No, not really, can I help you with something?" he asked cheekily, surveying the man.

They looked to be about the same age, so Clint guessed he was just out of training. Which would make sense, since he _obviously_ didn't know who he was talking to. Clint just loved putting new agents in their place, especially since none of them ever guessed that little old him could kick their asses in half a second.

"Yeah, why don't you let the big boys talk to the pretty women and crawl back into your little intelligence cave, or where ever it is pipsqueaks like you pretend to be important." the agent growled, glaring down at him condescendingly.

Clint watched as the entire mess of agents around them winced as one, but none of them made a sound. He, however, didn't so much as blink, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

"Pipsqueak? Really? I haven't heard that one since… Gosh, since I was eight. What are you, my playground bully?" Clint asked lightly, grin widening as twitters of laughter sounded from their audience. Truthfully, arrogant didn't even begin to define this idiot, and he would thoroughly enjoy putting him down a few pegs. Every class of agent at SHIELD had their job, and it was indispensable to the others. He wasn't going to let this guy belittle an intelligence agents' work, even if he wasn't one.

"Think you're funny, do you?" the agent sneered, stepping forward again and completely putting himself into Clint's bubble of personal space, which was about a bad idea as getting into Natasha's. The Widow herself gave a small, knowing sigh and took a step back.

Clint just looked the larger man up and down a few times, making the other man snort, but instead of backing down like he expected, the assassin just gave a wolfish grin. Making the other man's expression turn to one of disbelief.

"Friendly word of advice? Steroids don't look so good when they turn up on your drug test, Chuckles." he said dispassionately, making the other man snarl, and use one hand to give Clint a harsh shove backwards in the middle of his chest.

"Excuse me?" he demanded, following as Clint stepped backwards with the shove but didn't give so much as a hint of a stumble, the entirety of the mess hall now watching in bated breath.

Clint gave a dark chuckle, quickly calming himself so he didn't deck the other agent and break his jaw, and sidestepped him, turning to Natasha instead.

"Давайте убираться отсюда, пока Chuckles получает сам убил." (Let's get out of here before Chuckles gets himself killed.) he said matter of factly, and Natasha gave a snort of agreement. Before Clint could move to leave, however the agent stepped up behind him, grabbing him by the shoulder in what anyone else would call a painful hold and spinning him around.

"What did you say, you foreign freak?" he spat and Clint shot him an incredulous look as he again forcefully restrained himself.

"I'm from Iowa, dipshit." he said shortly, before jerking his head back to Natasha, whose eyes were just barely blazing with an unnoticeable fire. "She's the Russian. You _do_ realize that this is an international agency, don't you?" the condescending tone to his voice had turned insulting in its own right. "But for the less cultural of us, I was telling her 'let's get out of here before Chuckles gets himself killed'."

Clint allowed his eyes to flash dangerously once before he turned away, hoping it set the man back on his heels long enough for Clint to get away without having to put him on the floor. He was already late, and Coulson was already going to kill him, especially if he got into a fight. Well, he couldn't even call it a fight, really. It was more him kicking this poor deluded rookie's ass.

He heard the fist coming easily. And he considered side-stepping it and continuing out of mess, he really did. But then his eyes caught the table where a grouping of intelligence agents sat, looking outraged and furious, and well… He knew _they_ would never be able to do what he could to the huge, hulking bully behind him. So he sighed dramatically, ran his hand down his face, an action which everyone saw and made the entirety of the mess hall laugh outright , before he spun and caught the fist now inches from his face.

The agent stared at him, surprised and disbelieving as Clint held his fist calmly and firmly.

"What?" the archer drawled, expression darkening, becoming more predatory. "You probably thought a cheap-shot punch like that would lay out a little pipsqueak like me, didn'cha?"

With that, Clint ducked the second punch with ease, and twisted the arm he still held to the point of near-dislocation. As the agent snarled like an angry bear and scrabbled to get a hold on him, or rip his arm out of his grip, Clint just swiped a foot across the back of his knees, making his legs buckle. Then he aimed an admittedly rather light spinning kick to the agent's chest, graciously releasing his arm as it hit and sent him flying backwards.

As the agent rolled over onto his side to try to choke air into his forcefully emptied lungs, Clint stalked over and pinned one of the man's wrists beneath his foot while he caught the other arm again and twisted it behind the man, electing a groan from him that tapered off as the archer then crouched to rest his knee on his throat lightly, pushing him over so he was more or less on his back, even with his arm still held awkwardly behind him.

"Now here's where I want you to take a moment and realize how utterly stupid it is to bully and come at someone you don't know." Clint said, tone changed from light and amused to cold and hardened. "I also want you to realize that as easy as it would be for me to kill you or dislocate your shoulder right now, I really saved your ass. Because if you had touched her, she would have castrated you in the middle of the mess hall in front of pretty much every agent on this base. Understand?"

He felt the small, quick nod beneath his knee, the agent's eyes having widened in shock and a poorly hidden fear.

"Hawkeye, if you don't mind, I do need him and all his proper bodily functions." Clint glanced up when an older man stepped forward, eyes glittering with amusement and annoyance that wasn't directed at the archer, but the agent beneath him.

"Of course, Agent Nicholson." Clint said lightly, nodding to the other agent and fluidly standing and taking a step back to allow the slowly recovering agent room to stand. "So he's recon then?"

"Uh huh." the graying man said shortly, watching with hard eyes as the younger man stood, massaging his shoulder, and watching Clint warily.

"What's his name?" Clint continued, more than happy to pretend that the man wasn't even there.

"Calier."

"I don't want to see it anywhere near my mission files." the archer said matter of factly, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the man whose eyes widened slightly before glancing up to Nicholson who just nodded.

"Of course not. He just got out of training anyway, he's nowhere near ready for anything of that caliber."

Clint smirked when Calier's jaw dropped for a moment with that statement, before he composed himself at turned to his team-leader.

"Sir?"

"Agent Calier, might I introduce you to Agent Barton, also known as Hawkeye, and Agent Romanoff, also known as the Black Widow. They make up the tippy top of the top tier of SHIELD's food chain. The best assassins this agency has ever seen." Nicholson said lightly, and Clint grinned.

"Aw, Nicholson, you flatter me." he said teasingly, before his eyes darkened as they turned back to Calier. "And I'm not done with you yet either. See, the thing is, I don't like bullies. And I would honestly, truthfully, like to see you try to do your job without the file that an _intelligence_ team puts together for you. So unless you'd like to try that little one-man-show and get yourself killed, I suggest that you get off your high horse and realize your department doesn't give you the right to be a bad-ass and mouth off about the others."

Calier's jaw clenched before he gave a short nod of reluctant acceptance. "Yes, sir."

"I go from pipsqueak to sir. I love it." Clint muttered as he shook his head and turned to Natasha again, who was still glaring at Calier. "I came to find you because Coulson had a briefing for us… Ten minutes ago."

"I'm blaming you." she sniffed, even though she still didn't turn to move away, eyes flashing and very focused. Clint sighed and gently turned her away by the shoulder.

"Come on, Tasha. Kid already got his ass kicked. I highly doubt he's going to try to hit on you again." Clint said appeasingly, and she snorted, reluctantly going with him.

"He tried to grab my ass." she growled mutinously, but he just chuckled, paying no attention to the other agents.

"Breaking his hand won't help."

"I wasn't going to break his hand. I was going to break his neck." she spat, their voices fading as they edged through the doors.

"Well, in his defense, you do have a very nice ass, Tasha." Clint responded, before laughing as there was the resounding sound of impact as she undoubtedly hit him.

"Well, at least you gave everyone some entertainment for the morning, Calier." Nicholson sighed as everyone started to go back about their business; eating, getting up to leave, and talking about the event that had just occurred. "And you made an ass out of yourself and enemies in the forms of the two single most deadly people arguably on the planet. It has to be a record."

"But he… he can't just do that." Calier protested, following Nicholson back to their table, keeping his voice low as not to attract any more attention. "He attacked me, he almost killed me, he-,"

"Taught you a valuable lesson." Nicholson finished patiently, turning to look at the young agent with a raised eyebrow. "You've got the potential to do a lot for this agency, kid, but not with the attitude you've had. Hopefully the Hawk managed to knock you down a few pegs so you can see that. You are not God's single most important gift to SHIELD. We all have our jobs, they are all important, and none of us could get done what we needed to without the other."

Calier scowled slightly, and Nicholson gave a nod before looking up and smirking.

"Good morning, Agent Hill." he greeted, and Calier's eyes shot up as the deputy director walked past on her way to dump her tray, nodding to Nicholson before speaking.

"Hawkeye went easy on you agent. I've never seen anyone walk away from invading his personal space like that without some form of broken something. Director Fury would laugh in your face if you lodged a complaint, and so would I." Hill didn't so much as pause to look at him as she dumped her tray and walked back by, making Calier gape in shock. "You're also very lucky that he's the only person alive that can talk down an angry Black Widow."

"Then there's that." Nicholson agreed lightly as he speared a potato from his plate.

"So are they…?" Calier trailed off curiously, but the older agent just snorted shaking his head.

"Together? We've all been trying to figure out that one for years. Your best guess is to assume the answer is yes and leave them the hell alone."

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**So there's that, I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to tell me what you thought or shout out some ideas for future chapters in a review. Thanks for reading.  
~Dogstar**


	2. Welcome to Level 7

**Why hello there everyone. I know some of you were probably starting to doubt, but I am in fact still alive and kicking. I'm not going to bore you with the details of why I took the monstrosity of a break that I did, but on the bright side, it is over now and I'm back and writing again.  
**

**In that vein, I have good news, even better news, and then I have a little bit of bad news. This is going to be a little bit of a lengthy AN, but if you have interest in my other stories, it pertains to that.**

**Good news:**** I will be posting the first chapter of the new story in the Protective Reasoning universe exactly a week from today!**

**Better news:**** I already have the story, and a majority of its sequel completely written!**

**Bad news: The next story is not going to be Glass. That story has been completely scrapped as far as the Protective Reasoning universe goes. This is for a multitude of reasons, the major one being what I had planned (that had been a budding idea for a long time) didn't fit at all for the characters I'd established with my other stories. If I ever do post it, it will not be a part of my universe. **

**Anyway, more information for the new story coming at the end of this little one shot.**

**This is a short one, but I saw the trailer for 'Agents of SHIELD', and I just couldn't resist. Before everyone asks, as far as the Protective Reasoning universe goes, I'm pretty sure Phil's staying dead. Unless I can think of a really convincing, realistic reason to shove him back in.**

**At any rate, enjoy, review if you'd like, and keep an eye out for the new story a week from today.**

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_"When he pitched this whole 'Avengers Initiative' thing at me, I'm not going to lie, I thought he was nuts." the archer told them lightly, an exasperated grin on his face. "Course, that was just after the whole thing in Tokyo, so it might have partially been the pain meds too, but it was a pretty out there idea. I'm sitting there recovering from a bullet wound and he's telling me he wants to put me on a team with Captain-freaking-America, a demi-god from another realm, Iron Man and my partner." **Home Sweet Home Chapter 4**_

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Clint idly tapped his fingers against the metal briefing room table in time with the song that was coming out of his head phones. His stomach still hurt like a bitch, getting shot always did, but he'd finally been released from the infirmary this morning. Because of that, he wasn't even going to complain that Phil had kept him waiting for the past twenty minutes in this dull, lifeless briefing room. He was curious about what his handler wanted to brief him on, seeing as he _hadn't_ been cleared for active duty.

He looked around when the door opened behind him, sitting up quickly and gingerly easing his feet down so they weren't propped up on the edge of the table anymore, slipping his head phones out of his ears. Phil came around the table to sit across from him, placing a stack of files on the table in front of him.

"How are you feeling?" Phil asked, looking him over with barely muted concern in his eyes. He'd been getting Natasha settled on a mission in Nepal, and had just gotten back the day before. Aside from a quick visit to his infirmary room to inform him about this briefing, they hadn't seen each other in almost a week. Clint just grinned.

"Immeasurably better now that I've been released after two weeks in that hellish prison." he said lightly, making his handler sigh though the smallest of grins twitched at the corner of his mouth.

"_Must_ you over-dramatize everything?"

"Come on, Phil, you know the answer to that one." his smirk widened cheekily before he sobered somewhat, turning serious. "What d'we got?"

"Nothing. We're raising your security clearance." Phil said, looking back down to the files in front of him. Clint, however, frowned and sat up straighter, eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What do you mean 'raising my security clearance'? I'm already Level 6, Phil, that's as high as it goes." the assassin pointed out. He'd been at Level 6 for years, with the type of targets he was given. Then, his eyes darkened as he read his handler's gaze. He knew that look. It was the 'I did it for your own good' look. He hated that look, because it meant Phil had lied to him about something.

"Clint," the older man started, tone placating, but Clint just scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and not softening his expression in the slightest.

"You promised not to keep me in the dark, Coulson." he said shortly, watching as his handler's eyes flashed at him.

"I haven't; not about anything pertaining to your missions. I wouldn't do that, Clint, it's not like that."

"Then what's it like?"

His handler gave a long sigh at the scathing note in his tone, but knew far better than to comment on it. Instead he just met the younger man's challenging gaze and moved to explain.

"Level 7 has a very specific focus point that doesn't pertain to anything you've ever done before." he said, holding the archer's gaze and watching the anger simmer in favor of very reluctant curiosity.

"What would that be? And why would you decide to change my clearance now?" he asked, tone still hard and short, and with none of the laid-back amusement that it had contained before.

"Because it's going to start pertaining to you." Coulson said matter of factly, grabbing the top file off the stack he had brought with him. "Remember what I mentioned to you about the Avengers' Initiative?"

"That it was scraped by the Council?" Clint asked sarcastically, instead just holding his hand out for the file, which was then passed to him.

"You know the Director. If he wants something, he's going to keep pushing for it. Especially seeing as it's starting to look like it's something we're going to need." Coulson pointed out, before falling silent to give his agent the time to look through the file.

Clint's eyes continually widened as he looked through the pages of the file, and the write ups on the people Fury wanted for this team. Tony Stark. The big crazy blonde he'd held an arrow on down in New Mexico, who was apparently an alien and a demi-god. Obviously he was supposed to be able to take that into stride as if it was nothing to be alarmed about. Dr. Bruce Banner aka the Hulk that'd helped lay waste to the entirety of Harlem. Also clearly _just_ the guy that could be trusted without thought. The fourth page had him blinking in unmasked shock and looking up to Phil.

"Captain America." he deadpanned, raising an eyebrow but expecting nothing else from his handler when he broke out into an excited grin.

"We found him in the ice. Alive. He's currently defrosting on base in New York." Coulson confirmed and Clint snorted turning his gaze back to the file with a smirk of his own.

"And I missed your fan girl moment when Fury told you." he sighed and shook his head in disappointment, grin widening as Phil snorted defensively.

"I did not have a 'fan girl moment' Barton."

"I would bet every dime I've ever made that you did." Clint pointed out, not deterred at all by the older man's denial. He /had/ seen the fan girl moment when he had completed his trading card collection. He couldn't remember ever laughing that hard before or since. He grinned at Coulson's huff before turning the page in the file again and completely freezing.

He was looking down at his own picture.

"You're not serious."

"I'm completely serious." Coulson had turned back to his stoic professionalism and was now watching him carefully. "Turn the page."

Clint did so, shaking his head slowly when the last work up in the file was Natasha's.

"We're lone-wolf assassins, Phil, not team players and certainly not superheroes." the archer pointed out, closing the file and sliding it forward.

"I wouldn't ask you to do something that you weren't capable of Clint." Coulson said patiently. "We don't even know for sure that it'll work, and to be honest, you're the first one we're completely reading in. Level 7 has purely to do with unnatural or alien entities and threats, and our response to those things." he nodded down to the file Clint had pushed away. "Fury thinks the Council will be a bit more accepting if we have some of our own people included. And let's be honest, you and Romanoff are both good enough to qualify."

"The Council hates me and they think we should have killed Nat when we had the chance." Clint pointed out dryly. "I don't think _we_ are going to give them any peace of mind."

"They may not like you, but at the end of the day you're still SHIELD." Coulson said confidently, meeting Clint's gaze again. "I'm not going to push you into it, but I'd like you to consider it."

"Fine." Clint hedged, still not entirely convinced, before changing the subject and nodding to the rest of the files his handler had brought with him. "What're those?"

"Your homework." Coulson said lightly, picking up the top four and sliding them across the table to him. "Everything we know on your new team mates, aside from Natasha, who you already know more about than what's in her file anyway."

"Great." Clint leafed through them quickly, able to feel Coulson grin at his obvious lack of enthusiasm.

"And this last one is going to be one of your next assignments." Coulson said, picking up the final file and handing it to him. "A protection detail."

"For who?" Clint asked as he reached forward for the file, somewhat confused. Just by looking at his new 'team mates', they weren't anything he could protect better than they could protect themselves.

"Not who. What." Coulson said, watching as he flipped open the file. "It's called the tessaract. In the loosest terms, it's a glowing energy cube. You'll have to read up on it."

"When does this start?" Clint asked with a frown, scanning the first page of the file.

"Not for a month or two at least. You're not cleared for active duty, we're still trying to put together a team to study it, and we've still got some normal missions lined up for you that we want taken care of before settling you down with it." Coulson explained, twitching the ghost of a smile when Clint snorted.

"I'm going from assassinating war lords and arms dealers to babysitting alien technology." he sighed, shaking his head. "And it's going to last a while isn't it?"

"Probably." Coulson nodded with a slight air of apology.

"I'm not making any promises about how I'm going to end up entertaining myself." Clint warned, grinning when his handler shot a disapproving look at him, before shaking his head.

"You can look these over back in your quarters, you need to get some rest." Coulson pointed out, and Clint didn't protest – which said something significant about the pain he was still in – instead gathering up the files and slowly standing, ignoring the pull of pain from the slowly healing muscle in his stomach. "Welcome to Level 7, Agent Barton."

Clint snorted to that, unimpressed and still not completely over the fact that Coulson had lied to him.

"If it makes you any less angry at me, you're the first field agent to have this security clearance." Phil offered, holding the briefing room open for him to exit.

"When are you reading Natasha in?" he asked, looking back and pausing to wait for his handler as he closed the door behind them.

"As soon as she gets back from Nepal." the older man assured, and Clint nodded before grinning and lightly elbowing Coulson in the side.

"You know what would make me even _less_ angry at you?" he questioned, but to his surprise, Coulson just clapped his shoulder and barely returned his grin instead of being exasperated.

"The pizza I put in your room on my wait to meet with you should still be warm when you get there."

"How do you do that?" Clint demanded, but Coulson just raised an eyebrow and turned to go down a different hallway. "I'm serious, Phil. You're going to tell me who you know and how you talk them into it."

"Get some rest, Clint." his handler called back to him over his shoulder, not at all responding to his comment.

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**And there we have it. Feel free to tell me what you think. **

**Now, I'm going to give you the summary for the new story. Which still doesn't have a title. So if you read the summary and a good title jumps out at you, _please_ let me know. I am terrible at naming things.**

**For almost nine years, Clint Barton has considered himself part of SHIELD. Up until joining the Avengers, the agency was the closest thing to a home he had. On the other side of the coin, his team mates had grown into his family in ways that he never would have expected. So when SHIELD and his team are put at odds and he's forced to choose between following his orders or saving a man that has become his brother, what will he choose? And what will that decision cost him?**

**~Dogstar**


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